The Sound of Silence
by Lemon-len
Summary: While searching for the Spirit Maiden, Ghirahim reflects on recent events, and his feelings. Oneshot, GhiraDemi if you squint.


Ghirahim stood at the edge of the woods, wondering how on Earth he had gotten himself into this mess. Had it really been so long since he had done anything of his own free will? An unnaturally cold wind blew in from the south, giving him chills and catching the tails of his cloak, whisking them around him. It occurred to him how much the fluttering of his cloak reminded him of the rapid wingbeats of a small bird. The Demon Lord quickly shook off the thought, as thinking of birds reminded him all to much of the Sky-child, and getting his mind off of that boy was precisely the reason he had started wandering in the first place. Ghirahim sighed, and began walking again, aware that he was sure to get hopelessly lost in the vast woods, and not really caring. With every step, he grew more agitated, until he sped off running, hoping to blow off steam with a bit of exercise.

Ten minutes later, he was forced to slow down to catch his breath, and leaned up against a sturdy-looking oak tree, feeling his heart hammer out a rapid rhythm in his chest. He slumped down against the trunk until he sat against the base. He leaned his head back and closed his tired eyes. He let his fatigue wash over him, and in doing so, let his mind wander. He knew he would regret doing so later.

His mind drifted back to the previous night, when he had once again been searching for the second Gate of Time, and had accidentally stumbled upon the subject of his frustrations, the Goddess's Chosen Hero, curled up in a deep sleep, on what seemed to be a large pile of Kikwis. They had all piled on top of that large Kikwi, the one with the odd mustache (who Ghirahim assumed was their leader), with the rest of the bunch piled on or around Link himself in a rather comical fashion, making the Hero look very much like a child surrounded by his favorite stuffed toys. Ghirahim had contemplated killing the Hero at that moment, to save himself the trouble later, but decided against it. After all, the boy was his enemy, but Ghirahim was a Demon with honor, and to kill a helpless enemy was cowardly and held no satisfaction. He had opted for killing the boy when he could fight him at his best, so it meant something.

As Ghirahim had been about to leave, he heard a voice speak to him, a voice he both respected and despised. "Why have you come here, Ghirahim?" The metallic melody of his opposite rang out, as the spirit herself emerged from the hilt of the Goddess sword. Fi floated silently before him, awaiting a response. Ghirahim scoffed at the blue spirit as he turned to face her.

"Just passing through, honestly. In truth, I never expected to see the Hero leave himself quite so vulnerable. Why, I could kill him right now, and he could do nothing about it. It would be convenient for me, don't you agree?"

"But you will not."

Ghirahim's eyes widened at that. He scowled. How dare she assume such a thing! Was she implying that he was going soft? Sure he had already planned to leave the Hero be, for now, but Fi made it seem like he wanted the child to live! He growled at the sword spirit, but said nothing.

Fi cocked her head, evidently surprised at the man's silence, and spoke once more. "…Is this really what you want?" she asked softly. Ghirahim shifted his eyes to the ground, his pale hair falling in a curtain over his eyes.

"Of course." He tried to say it as though it was the most obvious thing in the world, but his words lacked conviction . "I hav-…WANT to revive my Master. That way he can-" Ghirahim trailed off, not really sure where to go from there.

"That way he can hurt you again?" Fi asked, uncharacteristically letting emotions color her tone. "That way he can scream at you,"

"Stop."

"Beat you?"

"Shut up!"

"Use you?"

"I said shut up!"

"Rape you?"

"SHUT YOUR MOUTH!" Ghirahim screamed at the woman, not caring about waking the whole forest. Surprisingly the sleeping bunch did not stir. Fi's normally emotionless blue eyes narrowed with a look akin to sadness.

Ghirahim fell to the ground, shaking with fury, and something else he would not admit. He slowly picked himself back up, and as he stood to his full height, he shot Fi a glare. "You don't have to do this…" Fi whispered. Ghirahim's frown intensified, and he stared directly into the spirit's blue eyes.

"Don't assume you know who or what I am. You don't know me, so stay out of my way. You and that pathetic child you call a Hero." With that, Ghirahim turned with a flourish, and, with a snap of his gloved fingers, vanished.

By now, Ghirahim had pushed himself off of the ground and resumed his running, if only to rid himself of the thoughts, the memories that clouded his mind. He refused to acknowledge the words of that blue, Goddess-loving halfwit of a sword. After all, Demise was his Master. Who was he to question his actions? If Ghirahim existed for the sole purpose of serving Demise, then how could anything Demise did to him be wrong? So what if his Master only viewed him as an object…that's what he was, right? A sword; a tool; a weapon. He was merely an extension of his Master.

Ghirahim's pace slowed. "That's right," he said to the wind. "I'm just a weapon. Nothing more." For some reason, these words sapped away at his strength, more so than they usually did. If he were less of a Demon, he would surely have shed tears at this, but he kept his composure, as was befitting a man of his position. He blinked back the stinging in his eyes, and looked up from the ground. He gasped.

Before him lay the eerie tranquility of the Sealed Grounds. This place, he mused, holds so much pain for Master and myself. Hesitantly, Ghirahim stepped forward, slowly nearing the edge of the spiraling path that led down to the seal keeping his Master at bay. The corners of Ghirahim's mouth turned slightly upward as he acknowledged the irony of his wandering footsteps leading him here. It seemed that he could not escape the pull of his Master's essence, even in delirium. Ghirahim gracefully leapt off of the edge of the path, propelling himself forward with the grace of an acrobat, and landed upright on his toes just outside of the seal with a soft thud.

With soft steps, he approached the sealing spike, and when he stood about a half-foot from the marble stake, he dropped to one knee and bowed in reverence. Softly he whispered, "Hello, Master. I know I shouldn't be here if I have nothing to show for it, but I-…well I thought maybe, since I'm here, I could give you my report. You see, I've discovered the whereabouts of a second Gate of Time, and now, I just have to find it-"

Ghirahim sat cross-legged, telling the spike every aspect of his search thus far, and even laughed at times, imagining his Master's responses. He talked for hours, and it wasn't until the sun began to sink beneath the lush green treetops that Ghirahim became aware of just how long he had spent with his imprisoned Master. He stretched his stiff limbs, hearing his achy joints give a satisfying pop. Ghirahim stood, bowing to the spike once more, preparing to leave, when an unexpected yawn left his mouth. Ghirahim blushed, unaccustomed to such fatigue, and decided that, perhaps, a bit of rest wasn't such a bad idea. Plus, Ghirahim reasoned, Master might be lonely down there.

Without another thought, Ghirahim sat back down, scooting closer to the spike, and lay down beside it. Ghirahim pulled his cloak around him, and snuggled closer to the cold marble, not caring that the stone chilled his skin, after all, it was for his Master. He curled around the base of the spike, resting one hand on the stone itself, and shut his eyes, feeling sleep's embrace beckon him. Just before he let sleep take him, he whispered softly,

"Goodnight Master.


End file.
